


you were there too

by kuragins



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi, Trans Male Character, hmmmmmm, still this is for anna bc i love her!, this reads very rushed and i.htae it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuragins/pseuds/kuragins
Summary: Pierre longs for what he cannot have.





	you were there too

Pierre sighs. He's a little more buzzed than he'd prefer to be, and the Kuragins are too much to handle when Pierre's overwhelmed. _It's too late for this_ , he grumbles to himself, dragging his feet along the deserted path as he walks.  Though, isn't it always too late when Pierre is involved? He wishes he could throw his bag down and run straight to his dorm to curl up on the bed across the room from Andrei. It's not _quite_ what Pierre wishes would be happening in that room, but the sound of Andrei's soft breathing always manages to calm him all the same. As Pierre trudges away from the Kuragins' building, he shivers and pulls his sweater closer to his body. His sweater is too thin, campus is too cold, and Pierre knows his room will be just as cold when he gets back, if in a different sense.

Pierre supposes he's been spending too much time alone lately. He misses his movie nights with Andrei where they'd squeeze onto one of their shitty dorm beds and laugh at old films they'd watch on Pierre's grainy old laptop. He misses the days when he'd take Natasha to lunch ("as friends," he'd say, laughing a bit to cover up the fear that she would realize, Natasha elbowing him and grinning and gently telling him to stop being silly, that she _knows_ it's just as friends, that he can stop being so nervous around her now) and they'd talk about their favorite books and Pierre could sneak glances at Natasha's smile and fall in love all over again. Now, though, Andrei and Natasha do those things with each other, of course they do, because those are _couple things_ , aren't they? Pierre wishes he wasn't so bitter, but he really can't help himself.

Pierre's building is dark and quiet. That's not surprising; it's too late for the early risers and too early for the night owls. Pierre knows his room will be silent, too. Natasha is taking Andrei on a _date_ (Pierre always says it with a bit of malice his head, because that's what it feels like when Andrei is informing him he'll have to be spending the night alone again), so Andrei will either be home asleep or still out having fun with Natasha. Pierre pauses for a moment outside his door, imagining that Andrei and Natasha are inside, waiting happily for him, welcoming him home. "Pierre!" Natasha would say excitedly. "We've been waiting for you! Come to sleep, we missed you!" Andrei would smile and make room and Natasha would hold tight to Pierre's hand--Pierre sighs, and he can feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He presses the heels of his hands to his face, trying to regain his composure. _Pull it together, Bezukhov. They're your best friends. At least you have that._

He fumbles in his bag for his key, opening the door as silently as he can on the off chance that Andrei is back already. The room is dark, but there's definitely someone in Andrei's bed. Andrei would be the obvious conclusion...but something's different. That lump is bigger than usual, the breathing not soft at all--

"Andrei, Andrei, stop, I think the door just opened," someone who is most certainly _not_ Andrei hisses from where _Andrei_ should be.

"Pierre?" And that's Andrei's voice, but what the hell is going on? And then it dawns on Pierre. He lets out a high-pitched squeak, but that's the least of his worries as he stumbles back toward the door. He hits it with a thump.

"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm leaving, I'm leaving, just- keep doing what you were doing! Have fun!" Pierre can't quite find the doorknob, and he's covering his eyes, and Andrei and Natasha are whispering behind him, but Pierre can't hear, and everything is descending into hell, and Pierre wants out so fast, because he has just walked into everything he wants but cannot have--

"Pierre." This time it's not a question, it's a command. The world goes fuzzy. Pierre stops where he stands, arms falling limply at his sides. He doesn't dare to turn around. His heart has migrated to his throat, blood rushing in his ears. "Pierre, wait. You... want to stay, don't you?" Suddenly everything's clear again, Andrei's words sharp in Pierre's ears. _How did he know how could he have found out why is he making me tell him they're going to hate me forever why is he doing this to me--_

"Pierre." It's Natasha's voice now, and Pierre is helpless. He's learned to take some of what Andrei says with a grain of salt. After living with him for years, he considers himself immune to the bullshit Andrei occasionally spews. But Natasha? It just takes one sweet request from her and Pierre's a goner. "Pierre, please just tell us." She almost sounds hopeful, but that's just in Pierre's head, right? "Andrei, did we read this totally wrong?" Natasha hisses, though Pierre can hear her. She's never been good at whispering. What the hell is she talking about? She sounds agitated, and Pierre can't stand to hear Natasha agitated. He crumbles.

"Yes," he admits quietly; defeated, head drooping slightly. Why would they do that to him? They know now, and they're going to be so disgusted and they're never going to talk to him again and Pierre's fists clench at his sides as he bites his lips.

"Then stay." Andrei's always been more commanding than Natasha (as most people are). He uses it all the time on Pierre, mostly on mundane things, but this? This is far from something that happens every day. Pierre can't breathe, and when he turns around to the bed, everything is slightly blurry. Andrei's hand is stretched towards him, an invitation. He can just barely see the outline of Natasha, who's holding tight to Andrei's bicep. And then he realizes, no, neither of them are wearing shirts, and Pierre's eyes widen almost comically and his heart pounds against his ribcage.

"Please," whispers Natasha, her voice thick with something like anxiety (Pierre recognizes it well; he's often the only one who can calm Natasha down, sometimes to the chagrin of Andrei). "We can talk in the morning, just stay now. If-if you want to," she adds, as if Pierre _wouldn't_ stay if he could. He doesn't trust himself to speak, staring at the two people he cares for most as they invite him to bed. He wants to reach out and grab Andrei's hand, but he stays frozen in place.

"You really- you- _me_?" Pierre is incoherent, but Andrei and Natasha have learned to understand him over time. They both nod vigorously. It feels like a dam breaks in Pierre's chest, the rush of emotion propelling him towards the pair in Andrei's bed. He drops his bag in the process, keys clattering to the floor. Andrei grabs his hand.

"Kiss me, Pierre." Pierre draws in a sharp breath, but complies. It's not exactly like he always imagined, but it's exactly how it should be. Natasha grabs his hand and begins pressing kisses to each finger, and Andrei's pushing his lips against Pierre's with enough insistence that Pierre can't catch his breath. There's something utterly perfect about it, and Pierre can't help but be terrified that Andrei will pull away and start laughing, revealing that it's all a joke; that they're about to kick him out of his own room and tell everyone they know how much of a loser he is.

Andrei pulls pulls away, leaving Pierre's head swimming. Natasha presses closer to him, grinning.

"Oh, my turn! Pierre, kiss me!" It's so purely _Natasha_ that Pierre can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up before his mouth is covered by Natasha's.

Kissing Natasha is much different from kissing Andrei, and Pierre now finds that he doesn't want to give up either. Andrei is forceful in a way that Pierre loves, in a way that makes Pierre's ears ring and his heart race. Natasha is sweeter, softer; but the gentle press of her lips still makes Pierre weak at the knees. As she slowly parts his lips with her tongue, Pierre tentatively brings a hand to her waist, and immediately remembers that she isn't wearing anything. His palm presses against her bare skin and he jerks away as if he's been burned. Natasha pulls away from the kiss and giggles.

"Pierre, it's alright," she breathes out, grabbing Pierre's hand and bringing it to rest over her breast. Pierre's eyes widen as she guides his hand to squeeze, her eyelashes fluttering and a soft exhale escaping her lips. Pierre sees Andrei's head dip down, and watches Natasha's mouth fall open in a moan as Andrei presses his mouth to her nipple. Pierre watches. He's always felt like he's the one on the outside, always watching, watching, _watching_ ; never able to be important himself. Now, though, he loves it. Something tightens in his stomach as he wonders at the beauty that is Andrei kissing lightly down Natasha's body as she trembles; the art that is Andrei burying his face between her thighs as she bites her lip to keep from crying out.

Natasha reaches blindly for his hand, and he realizes: _he's a part of this_. It fills him to the brim with an emotion he can't place, but it's one that splits his face in a smile all the same.

Pierre stays like that, watching Andrei work Natasha with his mouth as he slowly notices his whole body throbbing with desire. He loves it that way, holding out until the last possible second, biting his lip as he watches Natasha shudder over the edge, and Andrei's head pop up with a triumphant smile, replacing his mouth with his fingers as he works her through her climax. Pierre is frozen as Andrei crawls over to him, slowly, his teeth bared in a calculated smile.

"Your turn," he murmurs. Pierre feels cold and hot at the same time. Somehow, he's lost his sweater, and Andrei's fingers linger at the hem of his shirt questioningly. Pierre nods. He doesn't trust _anyone_ more than he trusts Natasha and Andrei. He wants this.

After Andrei kisses him fleetingly and pushes his shirt up, everything seems to blend together. Natasha, pressing kisses to his jaw and neck while Andrei does the same to his chest and stomach, trailing down to his legs. Andrei, teasing him by sucking bruises into the most sensitive part of his inner thighs while Natasha runs her fingers through his hair and kisses him, hard. Natasha, grazing her teeth against his collarbone as Andrei settles his head snugly between Pierre's legs, Pierre gasping as Andrei teases him with a practiced tongue. Everything feels fuzzy after that, Pierre lost in a haze of moans and teeth and tongue.

As Pierre wakes up, he finds has no recollection of falling asleep. He looks to his right and sees Andrei, clutching tight to his waist. Natasha is sprawled on his other side, head pillowed on Pierre's chest. Her hair is the messiest he's ever seen it. He thinks he's never found her more beautiful. Andrei breathes in softly, letting out a sleepy sigh before curling into Pierre as tight as he can. The sun seems to reach through the window, curling her fingers across the trio that lies on the bed, content. Everything is bright to Pierre.

Everything is warm. Pierre smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> wowiw the school brain is kicking in and making all the fics i write really shit sorry i don't make the rules that's just the tea!
> 
> my [tumblr](https://andrierretashas.tumblr.com/)


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